When you get to be my age AND you have a teenager for the second time around, it’s tough trying to figure out how to navigate as a parent. I want to guide my son but I don’t want to get in his way. I want to firmly steer him in what I believe to be the right direction, but he’s old enough to put one foot in front of the other towards his own goals, too.

My son received an award at school tonight for being in the top 20% of his school academically. He goes to a small, independent (of the diocese) Catholic school that has 260 students. He & 15 of his schoolmates got this academic award. It’s my son’s freshman (first) year at this school & it is not an easy school. I am so proud of him I could burst. (Heard that before from moms, have you?)

My son also got a letter in academics. The school he goes to is exceedingly sports-minded, but it recognizes outstanding students with the same type of letter that the good athletes get. So we’re walking down the boxwood path from school tonight after the ceremony. As the cool breeze lifts my hair & I bask in the pleasure of being proud of my kid, my son turns to me with the letter in his hand & says, “This is SO dorky.”

Now, I’ve been wondering for a few months now (okay, actually since last summer vacation ended) what the heck I was going to do with my son for the summer of 2008. I don’t want him sitting in front of his laptop IMing & facebooking (okay, I love facebook; if you’re on it, check me out) & generally sitting on his butt. He’s sedentary (he gets that from his parents) & has never been athletic. So I got the idea that I would get him a personal trainer.

I joined the local gym in the fall of 2004. I’ve never played a sport (not in school or otherwise). My father said that girls should learn to cook & clean & that organized sports were for boys (no, this wasn’t during medieval times, it was in the 1960s & 70s). I have 3 sisters & none of us ever played a sport in school. My brother (the only boy in the family), on the other hand, played every sport: football, basketball, baseball, you name it.

I “worked out” at Spa Lady in the late 1980s – early 1990s, but never really broke much of a sweat. So a little over 3 years ago I joined the local gym. Suddenly, my husband decided he wanted to join too (after never lifting anything other than a 12-ounce Coke in all the many years I’d known him). So he took my son – then 11 – & signed him up, too.

My son has been to the gym twice in the past year. His father, maybe twice that many times.

My son balks at the suggestion of any kind of physical activity. But I have a friend at the gym who recently started his own personal training business after getting his national certification. This guy has a great personality & I think my son would respond well to his training. My friend’s name is Dion & he’s also the leader of a gospel choir.

I took my son to see Dion & his choir sing about a year ago. My son loved the service & the music. So he’s met Dion & likes him. We’re meeting this Saturday to talk about my son starting a training program.

I’m nervous!

I was flipping around on the TV last night (ended up on The Andromeda Strain which was rather good – not great – but it was only the first episode; I love Eric McCormack & Benjamin Bratt so the eye candy factor is high which don’t hurt) & saw a bit of Work Out on Bravo with nutty Jackie, the owner of the gym & the star of this reality series. She had some of her very-out-of-shape clients running flat out in a boot camp. Yikes! Is that what Dion’s going to expect my son to do?!